It's true. I adore Christmas trees. Truth be told, I adore trees. And while I did grow up in a (albeit, liberal) Christian Church and sang in the choir with the best of them, I admit my devotion to the season is more. I'll ignore, for now, paradoxical contradictions of religion. Instead, decorated trees awaken … Continue reading The ritual of the tree
Memories
You come back, again and again
The woman cutting my hair admired my ring three days ago. I told her I got it from you. I didn’t say it was from your finger, a moment after you took your last breath. When I first put it on it felt foreign: a large jade stone. The one you impulsively traveled downtown to … Continue reading You come back, again and again
Early bookselling: Ticknor & Fields to Gills
Bookstores place second on my list of most favorite human-made spaces, bested only by libraries. Libraries unquestionably rank at the top by exuding an overwhelming welcome, and forgiveness for choices I may make: I can explore and expand my interests and it's okay if I don't always make it to the last page. I sometimes … Continue reading Early bookselling: Ticknor & Fields to Gills
Diaries, notes and letters: leave ‘em laughing
I just finished reading the memoir Educated by Tara Westover. I found it both hard to put down and upsetting: yet, more than anything it fed into my own brain ramblings about family stories, and how differently each of us retain memories during our lifetime. A third-grader at Chloe Clark Elementary asked me a profound … Continue reading Diaries, notes and letters: leave ‘em laughing
Returning to place
Does place pass through us, from those who came before? I suspect it must. Yesterday was my 30th wedding anniversary. I spent the morning with energetic, bright, curious kids - none I had met before - and the afternoon and evening alone. And although I love my spouse and was disappointed that he couldn't join … Continue reading Returning to place
Even when you call me Mother
It was the moment she referred to me as her mother. Although I knew she had suffered a tough week, I recognized a subtle, uncomfortable invitation into a new place. A different stage of life, for me – her daughter - and for her. I was also confused: I thought I had already stepped well … Continue reading Even when you call me Mother
Resurrecting the magic of a Peninsula expedition
My kayak is tuned to the music of the Willamette River. Honestly. Yet smoky skies chased us away
The Portland Steamer keeps on puffing
"BUT OF ALL boats, Dad most loved steamboats. They ruled the stories he shared: carrying goods and passengers up and down the Columbia and the Willamette. Oh, to have been a passenger on the early steamboats puffing along the two-thousand-mile long Columbia River! Our Columbia: the river that introduced William and Chloe to the Oregon … Continue reading The Portland Steamer keeps on puffing
The best way to thank an author
Some say the best way to thank an author is to write a review. Yep...I'm learning that to be near the top of the list. I'd be lying, though, if I didn't admit the best to be the heartfelt private email. Some notes and emails I have received from readers shared how my stories renewed memories … Continue reading The best way to thank an author
We are about stories
I stayed up late the other night finishing Birgitta Hjalmarson's Fylgia, a story based in Sweden and published by the same press as my memoir, Bedazzled Ink. I mistakenly drank caffeinated coffee at 4:30 pm, and decided to make good use of any anticipated insomnia. I would have finished the novel, without caffeine. And I am … Continue reading We are about stories
